


The Cat and His Daffodils

by WiresAndVines



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien cares so much, Adrien has a secret, F/M, Hanahaki AU, Honestly they're both so oblivious, How Do I Tag, Lovesick Adrien Agreste, Oblivious Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Sick Adrien Agreste, Sick Character, Sickfic, save him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-15 08:49:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13609836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WiresAndVines/pseuds/WiresAndVines
Summary: "The summary was this: he had three options.He could find a way to win over his Ladybug, somehow convince her to return his feelings, and soon.He could seek medical help, as all the articles implored him to do, and have the blooming love in his lungs removed. Adrien had latched onto this idea immediately, until he’d learned that the flowers were a manifestation of the feelings themselves. Removing the infection this way meant losing all the love he collected and treasured for his Lady. The thought made him woozy with grief just imagining it.Or. He would die."Alternately titled: Adrien Agreste has one more secret (involving Ladybug) that could kill him





	1. Another Secret

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first Miraculous Ladybug fic (and my first post on Ao3), and also my first jaunt back into writing fanfiction after a few years focused on other stuff. I missed it. I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you also enjoy reading it! I just had Hanahaki on the brain and lots of thoughts of my babes Adrien and Marinette. So: I wrote this. It was a lot of fun
> 
> Also, thanks a bunch to my best friend Somewhere_Else for being my beta, despite not having ever watched ML. She did a great job giving me critiques and fixing my mistakes (especially in the medical jargon).

It was 3:00 a.m. in Paris, France, and Adrien Agreste was wide awake, butt firmly planted on the cold bathroom floor, frantically typing away on his phone. He was scrolling and skimming at an alarming speed, barely even registering any information. Dizzy, disoriented, and horribly, horribly afraid, he read article after article, the anxious knot devouring his stomach growing larger and more painful with every word. Cold sweat pricked the back of his neck as he read:

_ Hanahaki Disease _

_ Often referred to as the Love Killer, Flower Cough, of even Death’s Bouquet in some circles, Hanahaki is a rare infection of the lungs that  _ _ causes a restriction of the bronchioles and alveoli, drastically reducing oxygen intake _ _. There have been very few case studies due to the affliction being so rare, however the symptoms are well understood. The cause of the disease is one-sided love, whether perceived or true, and causes flowers to take root and bloom in the patient’s lungs. Symptoms include coughing (usually expelling flowers or flower petals), tightness in the chest, difficulty breathing, lightheadedness, exhaustion, and, as the disease progresses, fever, dizziness, and delirium. If you suspect that you or someone you know is suffering from HD, contact your doctor immediately. The disease is terminal unless the proper medical procedures are followed… _

Adrien only gave the rest of the passage a cursory glance, its contents almost identical to every other article, webpage, and blog post he’d read. His head was spinning with the information, the knowledge that his honest and innocent affections for his crime fighting partner, the hero of Paris, was eating him alive. The summary was this: he had three options.

He could find a way to win over his Ladybug, somehow convince her to return his feelings, and soon.

He could seek medical help, as all the articles implored him to do, and have the blooming love in his lungs removed. Adrien had latched onto this idea immediately, until he’d learned that the flowers were a manifestation of the feelings themselves. Removing the infection this way meant losing all the love he collected and treasured for his Lady. The thought made him woozy with grief just imagining it.

Or. He would die.

Adrien swallowed thickly around a rising lump in his throat, tearing his eyes away from his phone to the scattering of delicate yellow flower petals dusted across the floor and toilet bowl. He shut his eyes against the wave of dread that swept through his bones at the sight of them. It had only taken a few cursory Google searches to determine that the petals almost certainly belonged to daffodils, which he supposed was fitting enough.

_ “Daffodils symbolize new beginnings, joy, chivalry, wealth, and eternal life,” _ the article had said.  _ “While many daffodils can be used to represent joy and happiness, just one can be interpreted as an omen of misfortune.” _

The irony of “eternal life” was not lost on Adrien, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be amused. In fact, the humor of it made him feel a little queasy.

Adrien knew, despite the desperate desire to run to Nino, to Marinette, to his  _ father _ even, for comfort, that this information had to stay secret. His father would immediately send him to the hospital to have the operation, and Adrien wanted to make that decision for himself. He trusted his friends, but he knew Marinette and Nino couldn’t keep secrets from Alya, and Alya couldn’t keep secrets from anyone. If word of this got out, it would be plastered across the front page of every gossip rag in Paris. He could see the headlines now: “Adrien Agreste, Dying of a Broken Heart???” He shook his head, lamenting the possibility.

But, God, that was just the least of it. The realization hit him like a gut punch. The fact that Adrien Agreste had Hanahaki was just a sad story.

His real problem was that  _ Chat Noir _ had Hanahaki.  _ Chat Noir _ , protector of Paris, one of the only two people standing between Hawkmoth and the innocent people of France, was slowly choking to death on his own love. How was he supposed to fight like this, daffodils blooming in his chest, roots crushing his lungs?

He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, comforted by the fluidity with which he did so. He still had time. He could win over his Ladybug yet.

He had to.

The next day at school, Adrien was twenty minutes late and he knew he didn’t look his best. He’d tried his best to hide the dark circles under his eyes before he left, using pretty much every trick he knew from modeling, but nothing seemed to do the trick. His haggard appearance went deeper than just exhaustion. Nino was the first of many to ask the inevitable question.

“Woah, dude,” Nino whispered as Adrien slid into the seat next to him, “you okay?”

“I’m fine,” He responded, giving Nino a big, tired smile. “I just stayed up way late playing video games.”

The lie was small, but it made him think about how many more he was going to have to tell. One more secret, a thousand more lies. Nino seemed convinced; Adrien was experienced at cover ups.

For the rest of the day, he managed to hold it together, despite his heart hammering to unfortunate speeds every time he felt that flowery tickle in the back of his throat. He kept it all bottled up inside, safely under wraps. Nino shot him a few concerned glances when he caught Adrien worrying the strings on his hoodie or chewing nervously on his pen. Once, the teacher scolded him for dozing off. Near the end of the day, even Marinette, shy as ever, went out of her way to ask him if he was alright.

_ No, _ he found himself wanting to say, but didn’t. Instead, he laughed it off and insisted he was fine, just a little tired.

“O-okay, if you say so,” she responded, skeptical. “Just… make sure you’re getting enough sleep. Wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything. N-not that I’m saying you look sick now! You look great! Ah! I mean- uhm… you look… I’ll stop now.”

Adrien laughed, his heart lifting as she laughed too, bashful. Marinette was so good, cheering him up, even if that wasn’t her intention. She ducked her head, looking up at him through thick black lashes. Something about her eyes made his stomach leap in some ill-understood joy. Confused, he attributed this feeling to them being that same lovely bright blue of Ladybug’s.

Heart squeezing tightly at the thought of her, his mind flooded with images of Ladybug’s brilliant, beautiful smile. It warmed him from the inside out, feeding the daffodils growing in his lungs.

His breath hitched painfully. The growth in his chest squeezed

“A-Adrien?” Marinette said quizzically, waving a hand in front of his face. “You sure you’re okay?”

Adrien nodded, but felt that horrible tickling of petals in the back of his throat, the stutter in his breath, the sharp cramping in his chest as he held it all in: the flowers and the rampaging emotions.

“I’ve- gotta go,” he managed to bite out, then squeezed past his worried friend with determination, fear strangling his heart.

Jaw firmly clamped and breath held to stifle any escaping coughs, Adrien rushed for the nearest bathroom, trying his best to look inconspicuous. He could see golden hair bobbing through the crowded hallway right towards him, and all he could think was  _ God, not now _ . Normally, Adrien was tolerant of Chloe. Amused by her, even. He would take her advances with a laugh and a patient smile. Right now, however, he needed to get to somewhere hidden fast.

So, when Chloe greeted him with a shrill, “Adrikins!” and leapt forward to catch him in an embrace of dubious intentions, Adrien sidestepped her and just kept walking. He cringed, guilty, as he heard Chloe sputtering dejectedly behind him, but he  _ had _ to get to the bathroom.

Pushing the heavy door open and slipping into a stall, Adrien turned the small lock behind him and fell towards the toilet as heavy, wracking coughs burst out of his chest. He was so unprepared for the sheer force jerking him violently forward that he was forced to place one hand on the toilet seat to steady himself. The petals in his throat needed no further invitation, filling his mouth and then spilling into the toilet water. They were bitter as they touched his tongue and left a strange aftertaste in his mouth. In the back of his mind, he desperately hoped nobody would enter the bathroom to witness him hacking up a lung. It took only about 30 seconds for Adrien’s lungs to calm, having freed themselves of the loose petals fluttering in his airways. Staring into the water, he counted about eight little yellow leaves, their light earthy scent drifting up to him gently. He sighed and flushed the evidence, watching it swirl down the drain. This was going to be difficult.

It wasn’t until several hours later, as he and Ladybug patrolled the rooftops of Paris that he realized how hard it really was going to be. As they kept up their vigil, she was  _ right there _ . Standing next to him, behind him, ahead of him. She was as beautiful as ever, and Adrien felt himself melt just looking into those confident, kind eyes.

“So,” he began, his signature slyness covering up any wayward nerves, “what’s been going on in that lovely mind of yours lately? Anyone special in your life? A… boy, maybe?”

Ladybug blushed, which surprised him. He didn’t expect this to be so easy.

“Uhm… yes, actually,” she replied, ducking her head in a way that was oddly familiar to him, though he couldn’t place why.

“Oh?” Adrien said, his heart swelling with possibility. “Tell me about him.”

Ladybug smiled to herself, something sweet and private. Something so real it made his heart ache for her.

“He’s… something else. He’s kind and sweet and he just has the most beautiful laugh. And his  _ eyes. _ They’re the purest, brightest shade of green…” she gushed quietly, face going bright pink.

She looked like she wanted to say more, like she could keep going and never stop. There was a gentle drop in her shoulders, a softness in her eyes that made her seem almost like she was made of clay, ready to be molded to be the perfect shape to hold. And, wow, her  _ voice _ . He’d never heard her talk like that before, so hopeful, so full and starry and sweet. The way she entwined her fingers together, like she was yearning to hold his hand. Could that be for him? He barely dared to think it.

“And?” he prompted, hopeful.

“And he’s so… classy. Such a gentleman… nothing like you, you silly cat,” she joked, giving him a playful push.

She didn’t mean it to hurt, but oh God, it did. He felt his face fall, despite his best efforts.

So, it wasn’t him. And wasn’t that just great. His heart constricted painfully and his throat burned. She was so close, but so clearly in love with someone else. Just the way she talked about him made it clear. She felt the way about some other boy that he felt about her. He hoped, in a vague half-thought, that whoever this boy was loved her as much as he ached for her, enough to make her happy.

But the daffodils in his lungs thought otherwise, threatening to claw their way up his throat. Unable to stop himself, he let out a short cough, mouth closed, fist pushed firmly against his lips. A few tiny petals managed to force their way up, and he hid them under his tongue hurriedly.

“You okay, kitty?” Ladybug stopped, her big eyes searched him. “You seem distracted.”

“Only by your beauty, M’Lady,” he shot back, but even he could tell it was missing something.

It had only been one day, and already he was breaking. His smile wasn’t quite so wide, his charm not quite so effortless. All because of some silly flowers. Nevermind his heart, silently trying to stay alive after tonight's horrible disappointment.

“Chat… are you getting enough sleep?” she asked, her graceful hands taking him by the shoulders, sending zips of electricity down his spine. “You seem really out of it.”

She was gazing into his eyes, and he couldn’t look away. God, she was so lovely. Her beautiful round eyes and thick black lashes, the smattering of freckles on her cheeks like stars, the delicate curve of her lips. All of it… all of  _ her _ made him feel both like he was dying and like he was really living for the first time.

“Ladybug,” he whispered, enchanted beyond reason.

His voice was a low whisper, so heavy with emotion and dripping with desire and desperation, he was almost certain she’d be able to read his mind just by hearing it. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to pull her against him, feel the strong curve of her hips and the softness of her skin. He wanted her to  _ understand _ .

She smiled then, gently, oblivious as ever even as heat crept up the back of his neck, and responded, “It’s okay, I’ve got this. You can go home if you want.”

Adrien swallowed thickly, keeping the petals under his tongue under tight control. He took a deep breath, gathering himself, and shook his head, trying to pull his blanket of humor back around himself. For Ladybug, he could be strong. For her, he’d stomp down the pain in his heart, in his lungs, and keep protecting Paris. For as long as he could.


	2. Swallow Your Pain (and the flowers in your throat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adrien is too caught up in his feelings to be reasonable or think clearly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my best friend Somewhere_Else for being a great Beta!
> 
> Also thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments! You guys are great!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the conclusion to this little Hanahaki story. :)

Four months later, Adrien wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up. He barely slept anymore. Each and every night was spent vomiting flowers, the yellow slowly dyeing a deep red as it tore his throat. Adrien was really starting to hate the sight, the smell, the  _ feel _ of daffodils.

He constantly Googled hanahaki, an impulse he was unable to curb despite having memorized most of the articles. The nervous habit of scrolling and searching was almost comforting, if it weren’t for the constant reminder of his upcoming decision.

He couldn’t just give in and die. He absolutely couldn’t leave Ladybug to defend Paris alone. He  _ had _ to have the surgery. But the thought of doing so made his toes curl with dread. He was so, so selfish, wanting to keep this love that was eating him from the inside out. He just couldn’t bear the thought of losing the way Ladybug’s laugh made the air light and sweet. The way seeing her fight made him breathless with awe, the way her witty banter made his chest swell with glee. (And his daffodils climb up out of his chest.) It all just meant so much to him.

People had started to notice his frequent excuses to leave, when he would hole away somewhere hidden to choke and cough up daffodils until he could breathe again. Between these short disappearances and his much longer outings as Chat Noir, everyone was starting to think of him as some sort of pretentious delinquent, constantly skipping class and running off on his friends out of the blue. Teachers scolded him. Classmates gave him odd looks. His friends were starting to worry, but they were kind enough not to ask. The expression on his face every time they went to say something must have been enough to quiet them. His outings with Ladybug were starting to become unbearably difficult and painful.

Being with her, laughing and talking with her, it all made his chest burn horribly, and the fighting was no help. After each fight, and usually at least once right in the middle, he was forced to dart off to some dark alley or broom closet and violently hack the flowers out of his lungs and throat. At first, he was fast enough that she barely noticed. But he was gone for longer and longer each time, and he could tell she was getting frustrated and concerned.

“Chat, where were you?” she snapped, panting after a particularly difficult battle made no easier by Adrien’s disappearance. “I could’ve used your help out there!”

Adrien flinched, exhausted and woozy, face heating in shame. He should have been there. He felt those annoyingly telling cat ears of his pressing to the sides of his head, but he knew every emotion was showing plainly on his face anyways, despite his best efforts. Ladybug’s expression softened as she looked him over.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you… look at you, you poor kitty, you’re barely standing…” Her anger was quickly melting away, a look of genuine concern replacing it. “Chat, I told you to stay home if you weren’t feeling well. Are you hurt?”

“N-no! No, m’fine, Bugaboo,” he stammered, a bit too defensively, “just feline a bit under the weather! Nothing to worry your purr-etty little head about!”

Hoping his puns covered his lack of conviction, Adrien gave a big, cheesy grin, tucking his hands behind his back to hide how much they were trembling. Ladybug, unfortunately, looked unconvinced.

“No, really, Chat Noir, you look terrible…”

“Just what every man wants to hear from his L-” Adrien broke off in an unexpected cough, frantically covering his mouth with his fist, keeping those incriminating daffodils trapped inside.

Ladybug quickly closed the distance between them, placing one hand on his arm and slipping the other under his bangs and resting it on his forehead, presumably feeling for his temperature through the thin fabric of her costume. Her touch was bittersweet, an electric hum that both sent wonderful shivers down his spine and sent him into another desperate coughing fit, his hand now clamped determinedly over his lips. This was  _ not _ how Ladybug would find out.

“God… you’re burning up, you silly cat…” she muttered, rubbing slow, lightning inducing circles on his back, attempting to comfort him. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

Adrien wanted to respond, to smooth over this horrid situation, but his mouth was full of daffodils. Full, damp flowers, the kind that ripped up his throat and felt like death. Could he… could he swallow them? Daffodils were slightly poisonous. He knew that from his obsessive Googling. But it wouldn’t kill him, and he was dying anyways. What did he really have to lose?

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Adrien forced the mouthful of wet, balled up flowers down his throat. And it  _ hurt _ . It burned and scratched at his throat, bringing tears to his eyes, nearly choking him. But he did it, successfully straightening up and smiling weakly.

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble,” he told her, horrified by how hoarse his voice sounded as it clawed its way out of his weathered throat. “I’ll just head home and get a good long cat nap.”

Ladybug shook her head, “Absolutely not. I’m not letting you go home alone in this state in the middle of the night. What if something happened? There'd be no one around to help you this late.”

“But-” he started, and his ring beeped urgently at him. He held it up to her imploringly.

“No buts, kitty,” she responded, thinking for a moment as her own miraculous gave its insistent warning. “I’ll go down the street a little ways, and we can both feed our kwamis and I’ll meet you back here. Don’t leave until I get back, okay?”

Adrien, slightly guilty, nodded, knowing he’d book it down the street the moment she was out of sight. Smiling gently, Ladybug gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, a gesture that was painfully intimate and yet  _ not enough _ . It would never be enough. Not in the time he had left, at least. He smiled back as best he could, fighting the tearful burn in the back of his throat.

As she turned and sprinted down the street, his miraculous gave a final beep, and Chat Noir once again became Adrien Agreste. His power drained away and he immediately felt about three times worse. His joints ached and his chest felt so tight it was hard to breathe. Plagg appeared before him, looking exhausted but infinitely better than Adrien.

“Here,” he mumbled, pulling a small piece of camembert cheese out of his pocket.

“You look awful,” Plagg said, an absolute  _ master _ of sympathy, and began to devour his meal.

Adrien rolled his eyes, honestly too tired to respond. His mood, however, was somehow slightly improved by seeing his sour-tempered kwami. Though he may act as if he didn't care, Plagg had so far been Adrien’s greatest source of support. The kwami had at this point given up urging him to seek medical help, and instead tried his very best to minimize the whole situation, doing wonders for Adrien’s constant fear. Stifling a cough, he waited for Plagg to finish his food and then, with waning enthusiasm, called for the transformation. Strength flooded his veins and breathing became slightly easier.

Then, like the hero he was, Chat Noir turned tail and ran down the street away from Ladybug. He ducked into an alleyway and started his way home, but instantly realized that it may take longer than he anticipated. He didn’t trust his body enough to use his staff, and he was already panting harshly from running the short distance to the alley. He’d have to walk the whole way. The ground tilted treacherously under his feet, causing him to stumble. His head was spinning, but he just kept walking. He had to get home.

Feet dragging against the pavement, Adrien was decidedly starting to feel worse. He hunched over slightly, trying to alleviate the harsh burning in his stomach, but it didn’t seem to do much. He felt vaguely nauseous, but there were too many other sensations bombarding him to put much stock in it. His chest was so tight, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

Suddenly, without warning, the ground sped upward to meet him, and the impact was dull as his shoulder slammed into the concrete. The relief on his weak knees was instant, but the prone position made it even harder to breathe. He felt thick, wet lumps sitting in his airways and deteriorated into a violent coughing fit. They were deep, desperate chest coughs, rattling his aching bones and forcing daffodils up through his throat and onto the cold pavement. Tears of pain leaked from the corners of his eyes.

He had half a mind to regret swallowing those flowers earlier, but the pain was overshadowing everything. He just wanted Ladybug. Wanted to see her, feel her, to know she was  _ there _ . She was always the solution. She fixed every hurt, assuaged every fear.

“Ladybug…” Adrien shuddered, beyond caring what she did or didn’t see.

Pulling out his staff, he dialed her and clutched the cold metal close, waiting. She picked up almost immediately, her voice ringing through clearly.

“Chat? Chat where are you? Are you okay?” she said, voice slightly frantic.

“Hey, M’lady…” he rasped quietly.

“I’m pinging your location.”

“Don’t hang up.”

“I won’t. Oh, Chaton, you shouldn’t have run off,” she told him, and he could hear the wind rushing past her as she ran and swung her way towards him. “I’m almost there.”

He coughed loudly, curling in on himself, trying to preserve heat. The cold from the ground was seeping deep into his bones.

“Chat!” Adrien heard Ladybug call, both through the staff and from nearby.

Then her footsteps drawing near, and then she was there, wrapping her arms around him, her yoyo clattering to the ground.

“Oh, God, Chaton… Chat Noir…” she whispered.

She was lifting him into a sitting position, opening his lungs to more air. Gasping, Adrien trembled uncontrollably, clutching one of those horrid daffodils in a shaking fist.

“I- I guess the- the cat’s out of th-the bag, h-huh, M’la-” he broke off his weakly attempted humor as his lungs seized up again, demanding he turn and vomit more bitter yellow flowers onto the pavement.

“Oh, Chaton… why didn’t you tell me?” Ladybug’s voice was shaking.

He looked up at her, vision slightly blurred, and wasn’t surprised to see tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She was so good and compassionate, and she cared so much.

Her voice pitched up as she spoke, strained, “Who is it, Chaton…? Who could ever…? No, I… I’m sorry… that’s really private, isn’t it?”

Adrien almost laughed, despite everything. She was so oblivious it hurt. He certainly wasn’t subtle, and he flirted constantly, if the way he melted like putty in her hands wasn’t enough. Of course, she was in love with someone else. Love made everything else fade away, made her forget about anyone else, even herself.

Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, he thought, wasting away in the clutches of his own love.

“Ladybug…” Adrien paused, unsure whether or not it was selfish to tell her. He didn’t want to force her to know the weight her own irrevocable feelings had on him. But, God, didn’t he deserve to be a little selfish? “It’s you, silly,” he finally said.

For a second, Adrien was sure Ladybug stopped breathing. He could just imagine the thoughts in her head, the pain he’d just caused her. He desperately wished he could take it back. He wished he could die with the secret buried in his lungs, safe where it couldn’t harm anyone but him.

“Ladybug, I-”

“You mean I… I did this to you?” The horror in her voice was unbearable.

“No… no, Bugaboo,” he rasped desperately, speaking becoming difficult around his exhaustion. “It’s not… not your fault.”

It was then that she pulled him into a tight embrace, and she was so safe and warm and strong. He wanted to stay there forever, hugging her back with the meager strength his shaking arms could muster, memorizing everything about this moment.

“How…? Chaton… we… we don’t even know…”

She didn’t have to finish for Adrien to know what she was thinking about. It had been on his mind since the very moment he fell for her. How could he love her if he didn’t know who she was behind the mask? But love couldn’t be explained sometimes, and a little mask wasn’t going to stop it. She was right, though. A relationship couldn’t be built on secrets. And in this moment, when everything  _ hurt _ so badly and saving Paris seemed a million miles away and she was  _ right there _ , he knew what he wanted.

Who cared if it was stupid? Certainly not him. Not now.

“Claws in, Plagg,” he whispered into Ladybug’s hair.

“Chat Noir-!” Ladybug cautioned, freezing up in shock.

But already, there was that flash of green light, and he felt his hair flutter around his ears, falling after the transformation. The wave of pain and exhaustion came over him like a hood, rushing up from his back and over his head, his whole body sagging. With some inexplicable drive, he managed to take Ladybug’s shoulders and push himself back, bleary eyes looking into hers for the first time as both Chat Noir  _ and _ Adrien Agreste.

“Hello, Ladyb-”

But then she was crying all over again, harder, but with a curious lightness. It felt, to Adrien, like some sort of release. She was blushing and weeping, a sob that almost sounded like laughter bubbling out of her.

“My Lady?” he whispered, hopelessly confused.

“Adrien… my Chaton…” She really did laugh then, a sort of hysterical thing, tears running freely down her cheeks. “My Chat Noir is… you’re…”

Adrien let his hands drop slowly from her shoulders, afraid of what her bizarre reaction could even mean. Was she a fan? Was she… disappointed? Was is really so funny that he could be Chat Noir?

“I- I’m s-sorry, Bu-bug-” he was trembling so hard it was difficult to speak, fear and pain causing him to stumble over his words.

“No, no, my Chaton. You… Adrien Agreste…” she took his hands in his, that odd, disbelieving laugh sitting on her lips in the form of a tearful smile, “Adrien I’ve been in love with you since the moment you lent me your umbrella.”

Adrien froze for a moment, sure he was dreaming. She  _ loved _ him? His Ladybug loved him. She loved him for who he was before she’d known he was a superhero. She  _ loved him, she loved him she loved him. _ He was smiling, beaming. His heart was soaring, tears were welling up in his eyes. She was his moon, his stars, his whole world, and  _ she loved him. _

And then the rest of her words sunk in.  _ “you lent me your umbrella”, _ she’d said.

“M-Marinette?”

She was nodding and laughing and crying all at once. Her face was all kinds of pink, adorable even though her eyes were puffy with tears. His Ladybug… was also Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The kindest girl he knew, the one who stood up against Chloe, the one with those big blue eyes and those freckles like stars. The one who made his heart skip a beat in that curious way he could never understand. The one who was always late the same days he was, and was always missing when Ladybug was there.

God, he was so stupid. How had he not realized?

He was grinning like an idiot, his whole face alight with dizzying joy. It was terribly silly, this whole situation. The relief made him sag into her arms, releasing four months of pent up terror. She’d loved him back all this time: He was going to be okay.

Better than okay.

“Let’s get you home, okay, my Chaton?”

Adrien nodded and watched with wonder as Ladybug’s spotted uniform disappeared in a flash of light, leaving Marinette there, arms still wrapped safely around him.

“Yeah,” he whispered, pausing for a moment to push back so he could look into her eyes, “I love you so much, Marinette.”

She smiled gently, that pink blush creeping back into her cheeks.

“I love you too.”

And then those hideous daffodils, four months’ worth of growth deep in his lungs, began to wither and die, Marinette’s soft voice heralding the beginning of something Miraculous.


End file.
